


The Things That Come About From Dots And Dashes

by HeLovedYou



Series: When Everything Comes Undone [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Dramatic Irony, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, Hurt Steve Rogers, Identity Porn, Idiots in Love, It’s not really a major plot point but idk I think knowing, I’m so sorry i actually haven’t a clue how paragraphs work so this is visually a mess, M/M, Mentions of a Car Crash, Mutual Pining, Pining, Stonyclunks, no like they’re proper. So stupid I love them, well it definitely adds a certain level of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeLovedYou/pseuds/HeLovedYou
Summary: Tony glares up at him, adamant that this will be the one time he doesn’t allow Rogers’ puppy eyes to get the best of him.“No.”He swore to himself that he’d start getting over this little crush of his and that means no more melting at puppy eyes.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: When Everything Comes Undone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637557
Comments: 9
Kudos: 165





	The Things That Come About From Dots And Dashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bigstarkenergy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigstarkenergy/gifts).



> For Jordan, hope you like it, ily
> 
> Big thank you to @ironycap on tumblr for being such a wonderful beta, this would not be the story it is without her <33  
> Any remaining mistakes are completely my own

“I’m not going.”

“Tony, please”

Tony glares up at him, adamant that this will be the one time he doesn’t allow Rogers’ puppy eyes get the best of him.

“No.”

“You owe me, remember? Washington? This is that, I’m cashing that in, please.”

Tony snorts and raises an eyebrow.

“Really? You have one favour and this is what you wanna spend it on? You must be desperate, Rogers.”

“Please.”

“Nope,” he responds, popping the _p_ and trying to ignore the childish whine in Steve’s voice that he does not find endearing, no siree. “I don’t wanna go to some SHIELD asshole’s wedding.”

At that Steve snorts and gives him a withering look.

“You think I wanna go? At least if you come with me I’ll have someone to talk to. Plus, you could make great contacts there, right? Tony, come on.”

“No. Bring Barnes or Sharon or literally anyone else.”

Steve shakes his head.

“They won’t go, Tony, please.”

And damn him, he looks at Steve’s face and he looks so genuinely worried about this stupid event and Tony knows what it’s like to be at those things, feeling awkward and out of place among your own peers and he can feel his resolve crumbling like the poorly built wall it is.

Still, he swore to himself that he’d start getting over this little crush he has and that means no more melting at puppy eyes. He tries to make a mental list of all the reasons this is an awful idea:

#1: you have a huge crush on him so do you really want to go with him to a wedding, an event that people usually bring their significant others to? As well as that, an event where you’ll just be reminded of all the nice things you can’t have.

He mentally facepalms at himself even as he starts to rationalise it.

Technically, that’s only one reason, which is why he ignores the little voice in his head that insists it’s about the principle of the thing, regardless.

He grimaces inwardly at himself before sighing outloud resignedly.

“Fine.”

* * *

When the day arrives, Tony suspects he’s a lot more nervous about it than is appropriate. For god’s sake, it’s not even his wedding, yet the minute he’d agreed to go he’d rushed home to call Rhodey and pace anxiously up and down his walk-in wardrobe.

“-so what was I supposed to say? No?”

“And deny your one true love? No, of course not.” He’d swear he could hear Rhodey’s grin over the phone.

“Tones, just ask the man out already, you already do romance-y, couple-y shit together all the time.”

Tony frowned, defensive.

“This isn’t couple-y, friends go to weddings all the time, the only way it’s couple-y is platonically. We’re a platonic couple. Does red or black look better on me?”

Rhodey’s exasperated snort crackles over the speaker.

“Red,” he responds before ending the call.

Which is how he now finds himself trying to fix a black and gold tie against his maroon shirt seconds before they’re supposed to leave to fly to Portland for one of Steve’s stupid colleague’s wedding.

Jesus, he really would do anything for that man.

His head jerks up from the mirror when a knock sounds from the penthouse door.

He throws the tie over his shoulder and picks up his bag – which he immediately drops upon opening the door. Steve’s standing there in a dark navy suit paired with a maroon and silver tie. He’s smiling down at him, soft and almost nervous, and Tony briefly forgets to breathe. He looks gorgeous.

“Hey- um, your bag- here,”

Steve bends down to pick up Tony’s bag and all Tony can do is stare at how the rainwater makes the material shimmer as it shifts across his back.

He snaps back to himself as Steve straightens and slings Tony’s bag over his shoulder.

“You ready to go?”

Tony clears his throat and nods, struggling to find words.

“Yeah- yes. Ready steady, Rogers,” he answers.

Before he can hurry past him into the elevator, Steve plucks the tie from his shoulder and looks at him quizzically.

Tony shrugs.

“Wouldn’t sit right.”

Tony doesn’t miss how Steve’s lips quirk upward, knowing the other man probably sees right through his excuse.

“Do you want me to do it?”

_No, it’s fine_

“Yeah, sure.”

_Wait, what._

Steve drops their bags inside the door and moves in front of him, slinging the tie around his neck and working with deft, practiced fingers.

This close, Tony can smell Steve’s cologne mingled with the fabric softener the laundromat down the street uses and he imagines what it’d be like to just face plant straight into his chest.

He’s so caught up in his daydream he doesn’t notice Steve pull the tie straight and only realises he’s finished when he steps back and laughs at the dazed expression he must have.

“You alright, Tony?”

Tony shakes his head, clearing it of any non-platonic thoughts and looks up, internally yelling at himself.

_You cannot fall in love, you cannot fall in love_

“Peachy keen.”

* * *

They arrive at the hotel the wedding’s being held in and join the long line of other guests at the reception to check in.

Their courtesy small talk to the other guests is loudly interrupted when Tony hears a distressingly familiar voice behind him.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Tony Stark?! In the flesh!”

Tony turns slowly, smoothly fixing a smile in place as he appraises the one and only Justin Hammer.

“Justin, a pleasure as always.”

“Tony, man, how are you?”

Tony can see Hammer glancing distractedly at Steve. He knows what he’s assumed and what he must be thinking: how the _hell_ did someone like Tony Stark manage to snag someone like Steve Rogers, former army who’d gotten recognition after his noisy resignation and his subsequent decisive and wildly controversial anti military stance.

He looks up at Steve, who looks thoroughly unimpressed by the human weasel in front of them. He catches Tony’s eye and grins as they come to a silent agreement: m _ight as well have some fun while we’re here and if fucking with Hammer is the best way to do that…_

Tony reaches out and pulls Rogers closer by the waist, feeling the other man lean into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Gosh, how rude of me. I completely forgot to introduce you; Justin, this is my boyfriend, Steve Rogers, maybe you know him?”

God, the flabbergasted look on Hammer’s face is almost worth the way his heart clenches at _boyfriend_.

Doesn’t he fucking wish?

“Captain Rogers, of course! I’m a huge fan of what you’re doing”

Steve, ever the honest man, squints at him slightly.

“Justin Hammer-?”

Just before Hammer’s face can split into a smug grin, Steve continues.

“The biggest name in weapons manufacturing? Right.” Steve snorts and looks down, fiddling with his phone and clearly unimpressed.

Hammer gapes before beginning to splutter.

“Captain, I hardly think- that is to say, you must know the Stark legacy-”

“Was once one of greed and death, but is now being transformed into one of compassion and peace?” Steve smiles coolly and Tony can’t help the way butterflies crawl out of their chrysalis when Steve takes a step towards Hammer.

“Yes, I’m sure we’ve all seen the news at least once in the past 20 years.”

Tony would like to say he didn’t take such pleasure from the way Hammer visibly pales, but he did, he really did.

Before anyone can respond, Hammer’s phone starts vibrating and he looks down at it with palpable relief.

“Ah, sorry boys, I’ll have to leave you here!”

They both watch as Hammer wanders off to the side and Tony glances up at Steve, trying to figure out how to approach the whole boyfriend thing, when he catches Steve’s slightly smug expression.

“What’re you so pleased about, Rogers?”

Steve just nods in the direction of Hammer, who’s expression has soured remarkably.

“I have reason to believe Mr Hammer has just received an unfortunate call several breach nets in safety regulations in his factories.”

Steve shakes his head in regret and turns back around.

Tony laughs.  
  
“In bed with the brass, are we?”

He forgets sometimes how much of a little shit Steve can be.

He’s about to try to wave away the whole _hahaha I pretended you were my boyfriend to piss on my lifelong corporate rival isn’t that funny and not at all indicative of real life or anything_ when the women in front of them turn around.

“Captain, I wasn’t sure I’d see you today. How are you?”

Both women shake Steve’s hand and turn to offer the same to Tony.

“Your Highness, General, a pleasure to see you. I’m very good, thank you, how are you?”

“We are well; we heard you talking with Mr Hammer just now.”

The woman on the left smiles knowingly - Hammer’s reputation preceding him - and Tony wonders if he should recognise her.

“Ah yes, a pleasure as always, as you know.”

“Yes, he is... quite the individual. But I had no idea that you and Mr Stark were together.”

At that Steve glances at Tony a bit awkwardly, which is evidently interpreted as something it ~~unfortunately~~ most certainly isn’t.

“Ah. Yes, perhaps you are wise to keep such a thing from the public. I assure you your secret’s safe with us.”

Before either of them can explain, both women reach the top of the queue and turn to check into their rooms.

He hears Steve clear his throat next to him and turns around, bracing himself.

Alright, just explain to him what happened, he’ll understand; of course he’ll understand, he’s Steve.

But no, communication has never been a strong point for him, if not because of him, then because the universe just really fucking doesn’t want him to have nice things.

Just as opens his mouth to even try to poke the proverbial elephant, the General and Queen turn back around.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing you at the ceremony.”

“Of course,” Steve responds, “I’m looking forward to it.”

The Queen waves and the General gives a nod before heading towards the elevators.

Their own check in is rushed as they realise the ceremony begins in half an hour. Two key cards are thrust into Steve’s hand by a flustered receptionist before they hurry into the elevator, up to their floor and down the hall.

Steve presses the key card to the door and pushes it open with a click.

At least they just have to drop their bags and fix themselves and Tony won’t have to think about this… for the rest of the day, probably.

He’s so caught up in being grateful for that that he doesn’t notice Steve’s stopped in the middle of the room and finds himself with his nose pressed against the back of Steve’s suit jacket.

He steps back and looks up at the back of the other man’s head,

“Are you okay?”

Steve shakes his head and turns around, laughing lightly.

“Oh yeah, uh they just- they gave us a double instead of two singles. This won’t be Washington all over again, will it?” Steve jokes, flashing him a grin before shaking his head, “We’ll have to sort it later.”

Tony can only stare at the clean white sheets of the queen sized double bed as Steve fusses with his suit in the mirror behind him.

_Just my luck_.

* * *

The ceremony is pleasant enough. At least he assumes so. To be honest, he tunes out for most of it and only zones back in when everyone starts clapping as the two grooms kiss. In his defense he’s pretty sure Steve’s done the same judging by the slightly glassy look in his eyes.

He casts a quick critical glance to the grooms’ suits as they walk down the rows of chairs, arms linked together. He really doesn’t know how anyone can stand to make their wedding such a public affair.

By the time dinner starts being served, Tony’s almost forgotten about the minor incident vis à vis compulsively pretending Steve was his boyfriend. It’s only when one of the grooms – Coulson, he thinks – approaches them during the meal and tells them how pleased he is that Steve feels comfortable enough to be out among colleagues and that he always thought him and Tony would be a good match.

After that Steve turns to him with an awkward smile and a tense gesture and they both step outside.

They wander around the hotel’s grounds for a bit in silence, hands stuffed in pockets and despite the proverbial elephant plundering behind them, it’s nice.

The moon is bright and Tony keeps catching himself searching for stars that struggle to outshine the lampposts around them.

Eventually he hears Steve clear his throat.

“So.”

Tony nods along, unsure of how to play this.

“So,” he responds. Neutral, casual.

“Tony-“ Steve stops and turns to face him and Tony is caught off guard by the way the shadows fall on Steve’s face and the moon reflects in his eyes.

He looks almost godly.

“Look, Cap-”

He winces at the nickname he knows Steve doesn’t like. Old habits, he supposes ruefully.

“Steve,” he corrects, “I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to say, I was just trying to piss Hammer off. And I guess I did if everyone seems to know now. You just- you do whatever you have to, I know people thinking you’re with me – which is delusional, by the way – but it’ll hurt your whole ‘fuck the military’ thing. So you know, whatever. Do whatever you have to.”

Steve’s looking at him, something careful and hesitant in his expression.

“Tony, you know I don’t-“ he hesitates and Tony’s too riled up to wait for him to finish, so he keeps running his mouth as per fucking usual.

“We can just keep going with the charade for tonight and then figure it out tomorrow. You have a publicist, right? I can get you one anyway. We’ll keep pretending for tonight and talk to a publicist tomorrow. I mean-”

He laughs and it comes out an octave higher than usual.

“We must be pretty great actors, right? If everyone believes it. And that Coulson guy, can you believe him? No, we’d never work, that’s just- that’s insane, is what that is. Fanciful. I mean- he must be, ‘cause you’re just-” He finally manages to cut himself off and takes a slightly shuddery breath in a piss poor attempt to calm himself.

He gestures lamely to Mr Pinnacle of Western Male Beauty Standards.

“You’re just you.”

Internally, Tony laughs at himself.

 _Just you_ is probably the best way to summarise what Steve is to him, but he knows it’s infinitely inadequate. Steve’s _just_ kind and generous and honest and funny and understanding and smart and- well, what can he say. He’s just Steve Rogers; he’s just the most casually brilliant person Tony knows.

Tony doesn’t have the words to describe it.

He starts walking back to the function room, hoping no one’s noticed their absence. It’s a few seconds before he misses Steve’s usual warmth at his side and realises the other man isn’t beside him. He looks back and cocks his head at Steve.

“Chop, chop, Rogers, things to do, people to lie to.”

He stares at Steve’s solitary figure under the lamp light as he walks towards him and while he knows his own smile is too bright, he can’t help but notice that Steve’s is the tiniest bit sad.

He doesn’t dwell on why.

When they walk back into the function room, they’re both a bit embarrassed to realise they’ve missed the entire main course and sit down to the deserts, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Around the third time they get asked about being together, they glance at each other and come to a silent mutual decision: people are gonna talk anyway and they’ll have to pretend to some extent anyway, so fuck it.

The rest of the night passes as they spin wildly contradictory stories as to how they got together and bicker about the other remembering it wrong.

They make up weird and sappy dates and smile lovingly at each other and Tony rests his head on Steve’s shoulder and Steve runs his fingers through Tony’s hair and through it all Tony has to swallow past the lump in his throat.

Sometime after, a jazz band starts in the corner and surprisingly, people flock to the dance floor. Pretty soon they’re some of the only ones still sitting down and certainly the only couple doing so.

Steve smiles shyly in his direction and stands, offering Tony his hand.

“I suppose we should dance.”

Tony snorts and tries his damndest to ignore the pounding of his heart.

“Yeah, I don’t dance.”

Steve just raises an eyebrow and doesn’t look convinced.

“The great Tony Stark can’t dance, really?”

At that, Tony’s lips quirk.

“I said I don’t dance, not that I can’t.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t we go a few rounds and see?”

Tony grins back up and takes the proffered hand, once again ignoring the voice in his head chanting _this is a trap this is a trap this-_

On the dance floor, Tony finds it unexpectedly relaxing. They sway together quietly, sneaking giddy grins as they adjust to each other. In the dim lighting, Tony looks up at Steve and wishes he weren’t imagining the shy blush across his cheeks and fading down his throat.

They stay for a while after that, although as the night goes on and even more people ask about their now infamous get together stories, Steve grows quieter and seems to draw into himself.

They leave early, offering thank you’s and goodbye’s and congratulations to the grooms. When the door closes on the upbeat pop music it’s barely 1am.

Steve remains quiet while they wait for the elevator and his responses to Tony’s attempts at conversation are short and indifferent.

They walk down the corridor to their room and when they get in, Steve strips quickly and quietly, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Steve starts at the hand on his bare shoulder and turns to face Tony who’s sitting on the opposite side of the bed. His lips quirk up in a watery smile that tries valiantly not to drip right off his face.

“Of course; I-”

He clears his throat.

“I had a really nice time tonight.”

Tony raises his eyebrow, because fuck, he doesn’t _look_ like he’s had a good night. He looks like he’s been to a funeral.

At his raised eyebrow, Steve laughs and some of the shadows fade as his eyes brighten.

“I did,” he insists.

Tony examines his expression, unconvinced.

“If it’s about the bed, I can sleep somewhere else, I’m sure they have another room. I promise it won’t be like Washington,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Steve shakes his head vigorously, almost in a panic.

“No! Of course not, Tony-”

“Because I really don’t mind, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’ve already done enough of that, right?”

Now apparently it’s his turn to be examined and he’s not sure what to make of Steve’s oddly melancholic expression.

“Tony. I promise I wasn’t uncomfortable tonight. It was fun.”

Tony huffs, unconvinced but decides not to push, hoping Steve will tell him what’s wrong, he usually does. He ignores the little voice that tells him it definitely was about his outburst that began their whole charade of an evening and that Steve’s just trying to preserve his feelings.

“Yeah, it was,” he replies softly.

Steve nods, more to himself it seems and when he smiles back at him again, it’s more sure.

“Don’t be ridiculous about the bed, Tony, look-”

Steve pulls the covers back and settles under them, scooting to the edge.

“There’s loads of room if you aren’t-”

“Now who’s being ridiculous?”

Tony throws back the covers on his own side and falls next to Steve.

“I haven’t been called a playboy for nothing, Rogers.”

Steve’s laugh is gentle and takes Tony’s breath away. When Steve meets his eyes through long lashes and smiles it’s brilliant and bright and soft and Tony aches with how much he wishes it were his.

“Night, Tony.”

* * *

The next morning Tony wakes to light streaming through the curtains. He must’ve slept later than he usually would and puts it down to the human furnace next to him, vaguely and with some embarrassment remembering cuddling up to him last night. He’s about to roll over and force himself out of the bed when he registers something… tapping on his back? He stays still, keeping his breathing even while his mind wonders who or what the ever loving fuck is tapping his back.

It takes a while, longer than he’d like to admit, before he recognises the stoccato beats interspersed with longer ones as morse. As he concentrates more he recognises the familiar pattern as one Edwin Jarvis had taught him long ago.

_.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-_

_I love you_

Three short words, over and over, being tapped into his back, the rhythm slow and thoughtful and Tony- he can’t fucking believe. He doesn’t- surely that can’t be Steve Rogers tapping a casual and utterly mind shattering revelation into the space between his shoulder blades. So he whips around, heart beating and mind tumbling and finds himself staring into Steve’s comically wide eyes.

Silence stretches between them as they both stare and Tony realises Steve’s not wearing a shirt. A good look on him.

Just as Tony’s figuring he should say something, Steve’s phone starts to vibrate insistently on the side table and Steve looks a guilty kind of relieved as he reaches over and snatches it up.

“Nat, hey. Shit, no, of course not-“

Steve presses the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he pulls a shirt over his head and slips out the door, not sparing a glance back at where Tony’s sitting in the bed they shared last night, blankets pooled around his waist, hair mussed and mind racing and looking for all the world like a regretful one night stand.

Steve doesn’t come back.

Nearly two hours after he’d walked out, there’s a knock on the door and Tony jumps up to answer it. He has to admit his stomach drops in disappointment when he opens it to an older man smiling politely up at him.

“Mr Stark?”

Tony frowns down at him, trying to keep a lid on his disappointment and not snap at the man’s polite idiocy.

“Yes?”

“Mr Rogers asked me to tell you he’s been called away on urgent business and wants to know if you’d be able to take his luggage back with you?”

_Yeah, that’s fine Steve, I’ll just haul your fucking luggage around, no problem._

Tony gives the man a jerky nod and gets out a gruff “yeah, sure,” before stepping back and moving to effectively slam the door in the nice old man’s face.

Before he can, however, said nice old man jams his foot between the door and its frame and squints up at him, something unsettlingly knowing behind his eyes.

“He also told me to apologise profusely for his sudden departure. He wants you to know it was poor timing at work and not whatever he was sure you’d convince yourself it was.”

Tony grunts his affirmation and goddam, he was really not in the mood for this. Again he tries to shut the door as politely as possible when grandpa further pushes his foot between the door and the frame.

“Young man, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on between you and your friend, but I’ve been around a long time and seen a lot of things. Whatever’s going through your mind right now, I highly suggest you talk to each other before either of you jump to silly conclusions.”

Tony has to almost physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. He knows this guy means well, but Jesus, he just wants to wallow in peace.

“Appreciate the wise words, gramps,” he tells the man, who gives him a skeptical look before moving his foot out of the door and finally letting Tony shut the door.

When he does, he slumps against it and scrubs a hand over his face, sighing.

He can’t understand why there’s a knot in his chest. Isn’t this a good thing? That was a declaration of love, right? If a very subtle, indirect way with a lot of room for interpretation. Plus the fact that Steve practically sprinted out the door almost immediately after and apparently has work; those combined make Steve’s morse admission hard to believe, much as Tony desperately wants to.

He stays slumped against the door until JARVIS’ voice calls from his phone left on the bed.

“Sir, the hotel’s checkout time is in 15 minutes.”

He sighs and pushes himself up off the floor.

He stuffs his clothes into his bag and throws the bag over his shoulder, picking up Steve’s duffel left by the door and leaving $200 on the desk for the cleaning crew.

He knows there’s no point dwelling, but he can’t help himself as he trudges down the hall to the elevator.

Did Steve mean it? He must have, right? I mean, he’d hardly (kind of) tell Tony he loved him while it was meant for someone else. But maybe it was, who knows?

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when someone comes to stand beside him.

“Have you pressed the button?”

Tony blinks and waits as the words sink in.

“Oh, no.”

The man leans forward and presses the down arrow and they stand there together, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

Tony sees the man glance at him from the corner of his eye, and he sighs inwardly as he waits for the recognition to dawn and the inevitable unsavoury reaction that tends to follow.

“Hey, aren’t you Stark? Steve’s fella?”

Tony whips around to face the man, eyes wide. He can’t think of a time when he was recognised as anything but a genius, billionaire or playboy, though he has to admit the change is nice and the title of _Steve’s_ is- well, definitely not unappealing.

He croaks out a startled “Wha-?” before the other man interrupts, appearing flustered himself.

“Shit, man, I didn’t-“ he winces at his stumbling explanation. “I meant you came with Steve yesterday, didn’t you?”

Tony just stares and works to get some sort of response out. The silence is interrupted by the soft ding of the elevator as it finally arrives and the doors slide open.

The man – who, now that Tony’s looking, definitely seems familiar – steps in and holds the door as Tony’s brain kicks into gear and he hurries in after him.

He’s feeling a little awkward before he realises he’s yet to respond to the man.

“Uh, yeah, yes, I was with Steve yesterday. You were at the wedding too?”

The man nods and leans back on the railing of the elevator.

“Yeah; Sam Wilson,” the man – Sam responds and gives an easy smile, offering Tony his hand.

“The groom is a colleague of mine and I work with Steve,” he continues.

“Tony,” Tony offers, “and so do I. I work with him. With Steve.”

The man gives him a sly smile.

“Yeah, Steve’s mentioned you once or twice. Listen, I didn’t mean to intrude or anything with what I said earlier. I heard what happened this morning though, and I guess,” the man shrugs a little bashfully, “Well, I guess I was thinking. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You heard-?” Tony squawks.

“Yeah, sorry. If it makes you feel any better, he wasn’t trying to pressure you or anything, it just slipped out. The morse is a habit most of us have.”

Tony’s silent until the elevator comes to a soft stop.

They both step out and before Sam can walk away Tony blurts out “Did he mean it?”

Sam hesitates and shakes his head slowly

“Man, I don’t think this is for me to get involved in.”

The doubt and insecurity and bubbling hope come slamming back into him and he feels almost desperate.

“I just need to know.”

Sam examines him carefully and seems to come to some sort of conclusion.

“If you know Steve, you know he never says anything he doesn’t mean.” Sam gives a gentle smirk, “Outloud or otherwise.”

He nods goodbye and turns and walks away, leaving Tony with an unbelievable hope.

* * *

Tony flies back to New York by himself. He figures Steve will have to drop by to pick up his stuff and he tells himself he’ll talk to him then.

It’s better to have that kind of discussion in person, right?

He knows Steve probably almost definitely did actually have work to attend to, he keeps odd hours and sometimes he can be away for weeks at a time. _Meetings_ he always tells him with a sigh or a frown or an apologetic smile.

So the first month or so of complete silence from Steve, Tony reasons it away. Steve’s a busy man, he has other things to prioritise, they usually go a couple days without talking much.

It doesn’t mean anything. Right?

It’s nearly another month before his phone finally lights up with the long awaited message.

_Hey. Can I come around?_

Tony would be ashamed of how fast his reply is, but he’s too busy being relieved.

_Of course._

* * *

Steve sits curled up on the sofa, staring into the mug clutched between his hands.

Steve had arrived at the penthouse, cheeks red from the December cold and sporting a black eye and left arm in a sling. Before Tony could inquire about either, Steve had him wrapped him in a fierce hug before apologising profusely, eyes worried and earnest.

_“I’m so so sorry about this, Tony, I had to run to an emergency meeting and then fly over to Europe and- and there was a car crash and everything was so chaotic for a while and my phone got broken and I didn’t have a chance to replace it because they wouldn’t let me out of the hospital and-“_

_“Jesus, Steve, a fucking- are you okay?!”_

_“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I hope- I hope you didn’t- I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I thought it would be better to wait and talk in person. I didn’t want to worry you.”_

Bit late _was what Tony didn’t say. He just led Steve over to the sofa, where the bigger man flopped down onto it._

Which is where they remained now, the proverbial elephant once again between them and neither knowing how to approach it.

Tony bites his lip.

“So you’re definitely okay?”

Steve gives him a faint smile. “Of course.”

He swallows and Tony shifts as he senses as Steve gears up for one of his _I’m-being-very-extremely-serious-right-now-and-will-be-righteously-pissed-off-if-you-aren’t-too_ talks.

“Tony-“ he stops, licking his lips and glancing away. “About what happened before I left. With the- after the wedding. I-“ he stops again and clears his throat, sitting up straight.

“I just think you should know, I meant it. I- I’ve liked you for a while but- I never-“ he shakes his head and looks up, meeting his eyes.

“I am interested in you like that, but I don’t want you to feel under pressure. Nothing has to come of it if you don’t want anything, but I felt – especially after it seemed like I ignored you for two months – I felt you had a right to know. I understand if you don’t feel the same and want some distance now, but I would really like to still be friends, if we could. I don’t-“ some of his resolves seems to crack as he glances away and slumps a bit. “I wanted you to know and after the crash- I’d be disappointed in myself if I didn’t at least try.”

Tony sits, trying to process the words. The silence between them is deafening, although that could just be the giddy ringing in his ears. Steve’s words – now and at the hotel, all those weeks ago.

_If you know Steve, you know he never says anything he doesn’t mean._

It’s almost too much, too overwhelming, too good to be true.

But the earnest look in Steve’s eyes and the determined but worried clench of his jaw keeps Tony tethered to this moment.

“I don’t-“ Tony gazes back into bright eyes. “I value what we have too, but- well, I wouldn’t be opposed to trying something different.”

Steve’s eyes light up but his responding “Yeah?” is cautious.

Tony nods and his chest flutters as his breath hitches and he smiles, shy and hopeful.

“Yeah.”

They lean forward, hesitant and bursting, and when their lips touch, Tony understands why people believe in soulmates – and he’s certain he’s just found his.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed :D


End file.
